Or the fact it's just one slow, inexorable march towards the conclusion. Or the way it's constantly reminding you that you can't get your wasted time back.
Or that friends badger you to send them new objects. Take, for instance, the fact that the game is artificially stretched out by lengthy wait timers. A parody of insulting freemium stuff on Facebook, and a Banksy-esque portrayal of pointless screen-tapping apps on iPhone. You don't need to play for very long to realise that it's quite clearly a biting satire of pointless, junk-food games. Rest of review will be delivered in 32 secondsīut Little Inferno's goal-free nature is actually kind of the point. Figuring out the recipes is not exactly rocket science, and you only need to make a few combinations to finish the game. The Time Bomb combo, for example, requires you to raze a nuclear warhead and a buzzing alarm clock. The only time that it halfway resembles a game is when you unlock new catalogues of junk by burning certain objects in tandem. A spider's egg explodes into a gaggle of eight-legged bugs, for example, and a tin can belches up a handful of needles.īut there are few goals on offer, and even less skill involved.
The physics sandbox is fun to play around with, and there's a primal thrill to seeing how different objects burn. You simply spend coins on random objects - like wooden spoons, credit cards, chainsaws, and a leprechaun strapped with TNT - and then you burn them up in your virtual fireplace to earn a few more coins. You see, Little Inferno is not really a game by any traditional yardstick. You're not being timed," the letter reads.
Not long after you've installed your entertainment fireplace and lobbed a few household objects into its flaming mouth, you'll receive a letter that explains everything. Little Inferno is quick to declare its intentions.
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